A Little Problem Solving
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: Sequel to my previous story 'A Little Inaccuracy'  which you probably need to read!  Chakotay's acting a little strangely and Tom is determined to find out what's got into him...


**A/N – So, a while ago I wrote a story called 'A Little Inaccuracy' for a VAMB exchange. I can't remember who or where it was said, but someone asked if there was going to be a sequel. I must have written one because I was tidying up the files today and I found this! So, although I can't remember who you are, mystery reviewer, this one is for you!**

**Disclaimer – Voyager, blah blah, not mine, blah blah, Paramount's baby, blah blah**

B'Elanna sat sipping Neelix's coffee substitute of the week, wondering exactly who the captain had brought back in the place of Tom Paris. Everyone had heard about what happened down on the planet, and most had found it mildly hilarious – much like the real Tom Paris would have. They kept coming over to their table in the mess hall, congratulating Tom on his starring role and asking him when he was putting on a play that they all could watch. Each and every person received the same curt response, "I'm not really in the mood for this." By the time Tom had rebuked even Sam Wildman, who shot B'Elanna a hurt look as she walked away, the engineer had done enough guessing. She leaned over the table and waved a hand in front of Tom's face.

"Out with it, fly boy."

"Out with what?"

"The reason that you're being a total ass."

His brow furrowed and he stabbed at a piece of hair pasta with his fork, "I'm just tired, B'Elanna."

"Nice try," she smirked, "Next?"

"I just don't want to talk about it, that's all."

"Why?"

"Because I don't. I don't have to explain-"

He stopped mid-sentence and stared over her shoulder. She turned quickly, just in time to catch the look that the newly arrived Chakotay shot in the direction of their table. Chilling, was the word that sprang immediately to her mind. The commander poured himself a mug of coffee, gently released himself from Neelix and left almost as quickly as he had entered. Tom took a few more forkfuls of pasta, gulped down his coffee and stood abruptly.

"I've got to go. I'll see you later."

For a minute, she considered arguing but the look on his face was so set that she decided to let him go. As he disappeared from the mess hall in the same direction as Chakotay, she sat back in her chair and ran over the planet side anecdote she'd heard again, trying to see if she'd missed anything that could warrant the way either of them had acted. There was nothing that sprang to mind, but then Chakotay and Tom had never been simple people. They were far too complicated for their own good.

Tom hurried down the corridor, ignoring the grins of his crewmates as he weaved between them. Everyone had heard what happened planet side, and whilst he was perfectly fine with the part he had played and, indeed, did find it as amusing as everyone expected him to, he had something else on his mind. As soon as they'd beamed up, the captain had turned to thank him, the harrowed look gone from her face. Chakotay, on the other hand, had been frosty. Tom had tried to make a joke of it but it had fallen flat, and when the captain had left to relieve Tuvok, Chakotay had given him the oddest look and disappeared with little more than a word of acknowledgement.

Tom was used to Chakotay disapproving of him in some fashion or another, even after five years, but it had been a long time since he had made any kind of disdain so obvious. He had no idea what the commander's problem could be. You'd have to be entirely ignorant of everything _Voyager_ had been through to have bought the story in the slightest possible way – much like the hapless Ruling Queen – and anyway, he'd seen Chakotay grip the captain's hand as they were beamed up. No, that wasn't the problem. For a minute, Tom thought that perhaps Chakotay thought he had been the one to spread the story to the crew, but then the captain had been fine with the absurdity of the situation and even shared some details with the transporter chief. So that wasn't the problem either.

Tom was so busy analysing everything that had happened that he almost walked past Chakotay's quarters. Coming to a stop outside the door, he took a deep breath and rang the chime. He'd been expecting no answer, or at least to be kept waiting, but then the door slid open and Chakotay was stood in the doorway. His face dropped when he saw who was calling and he visibly tensed up. Tom noted with interest, "_He's expecting someone else_."

"What do you want, Paris?"

Tom winced at the bite in the way that Chakotay said his name. It was a long time since he'd said it like that and Tom didn't welcome the return of the old habit.

"I want you to tell me exactly what it is I've done," he said, sounding a lot braver than he felt.

"What do you mean?"

"The looks I've been getting from you would be enough to kill a targ, Chakotay. What have I done?"

To his surprise, Chakotay seemed to sag, "Nothing, Tom. You haven't done anything."

"Then why-"

Chakotay didn't answer, watching as an ensign from xenobiology walked past, "Get in here, Tom. I don't want to have this conversation in the corridor."

Tom rarely went to Chakotay's quarters, and he noted that not much had changed since the last time he'd been there. Nothing apart from the smell.

"Chakotay, are you burning Vulcan incense?"

"Yes. Tuvok gave it to me. Do you not like it?"

"No, it's great. My mom used to burn this stuff all the time."

It was evident from Chakotay's behaviour that he wasn't really listening, so Tom didn't push the conversation and sat waiting for the commander to speak. He was perched in the arm chair, and had a prime view of the stars through the window. He could wait forever for something to be said.

"I'm sorry, Tom."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, alright? Don't push your luck."

Tom leaned forwards in his chair, hands clasped in front of him.

"Apology well and truly accepted. Would you mind telling me why you've been trying to kill me with your eyes?"

"I'd rather not," Chakotay replied curtly, but Tom heard the faint note of resignation in his voice. He'd get his answers, if he played carefully.

"Come on. Maybe I can help you."

Chakotay laughed, a harsh guttural sound that took Tom right back to his numbered Maquis days, "You can't help me Paris."

"You never know," he murmured, testing the ice with his toes, "Shall I tell you what I think the problem is?"

Chakotay's head snapped up.

"What do you think then, _doctor_?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, Tom steamed ahead with Operation Suicide, "I think that you're brooding over the captain. Am I right?"

"You don't know a thing, Paris."

"But you see, I think I do," he said, "I saw the look you gave me when you thought that just for a minute the captain was telling the truth. You can't tell me that there was nothing there."

"You don't know a thing," Chakotay said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Look, I'm not asking for a declaration here, Chakotay. That's up to you and it's none of my business. But I know what I saw, and I know what you've been throwing my way since we got back and I know that you need to talk to someone. So talk to me."

For a full minute, Tom thought that he had blown his luck. Chakotay's face was a mask and apart from the gentle movement of his lips, there was nothing. The pilot tried to sit confidently, silently praying that Chakotay wouldn't kill him. It seemed like a perfectly possible thing to happen in the face of how much Tom was aware that he had crossed a line. But then the commander spoke and from the look on his face, surprised the both of them.

"It's just so damn complicated, Paris."

"How?"

"I was jealous, Paris."

"Of me?"

"Yes. No. I wasn't jealous of you, exactly. It was the situation."

"But you knew it was all made up."

"I know. But then one day, it might not be made up."

Tom was vaguely aware that neither of them was really talking about the issue in hand but then, at least they both knew what the other was referring to. He suspected it was the most he'd ever get from Chakotay and was willing to take it with both hands.

"One day, Paris, she'll mean the words that she said. It won't be about you but it won't be about me either and that's the problem. It doesn't matter who it is, because it won't be me."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Chakotay," Tom said, wanting suddenly to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming, "You didn't see what she was like before we came to get you."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"No, not maybe. She was really worried about you. Even Tuvok seemed to get how much she was worried."

"It doesn't make a difference, Paris," Chakotay rubbed a hand over his face, "It never does."

"Maybe not in the obvious way, Chakotay, but it does. If that's all she can give you at this point in time, literally everything she can, does it matter that it doesn't tick every box?"

"Careful, Paris. You're starting to sound intelligent."

"Well you know what I mean, commander. It's like that old earth parable about the old woman and the coin."

"You'll have to remind me of that one," Chakotay said, the only sign that he was interested the fact that he moved an inch or so forwards on his chair.

"The old woman was poor and could only give a few copper coins to the temple, even though everyone else gave gold. But the old woman was said to have given more because it was literally all she could afford. Isn't it sort of the same thing with the captain?"

More silence. Chakotay was starting to un nerve him slightly, but the commander liked stories with messages and morals and so he hoped that this would soothe any ruffled feathers. It appeared to be working, as a slow and easy smile spread over the older man's face.

"I'll say it again, Paris, you're starting to sound almost as wise as you think you are. I must admit, that's a new one."

"I do my best," Tom grinned, then resumed his serious look, "Seems to me that the best you can do is talk to her, Chakotay. Tell her what you just told me, and if she can't do anything more than listen and give you a hug and a cup of tea then take it and run with it. That's what I would do, because one day she might have the luxury of remembering what you've done and being able to act on it differently."

"Never in a million years did I ever imagine that the best advice I'd get on a subject like this would come from Tom Paris."

"I'm full of surprises, commander," Tom stood and held out his hand. Chakotay shook it firmly and followed the pilot towards the door. Tom smiled and stepped outside, raising his hand in a suddenly rather awkward goodbye. Had they really just had that conversation? It couldn't hurt to tell B'Elanna could it? Chakotay leaned against the door frame, an odd mixture of amusement and sincerity on his face and as Tom vanished round the corner he called, "Paris! If anyone, and I mean anyone, gets to hear about what we just talked about, I'm going to kill you. That much is a promise."

"Aye sir," Tom bounced along the corridor towards his quarters. It was good to have the normal Chakotay back.


End file.
